how does it feel to be a ferris-wheel? to spin your arms round and round, picking up hopeful strangers and propelling them up above, on the pretext of reaching, being that close to the stars, then culling them slowly back down, as gravity would you, to repeat it 5 times over, till another pair of lovelorn hope-mongers get the gravity of never reaching for their stars regurgitated from within them, killing hope, gnawing whatever notions of love and fantasy, and vomitting them out, in a carnival ticket of sickly candy cotton that would stick under memories in the forlorn for $3.50 and the price of being 'this tall' enough to get your dreams shattered thus.